Joe her husband asked if she was doing some “stress management” on the way home, to which she replied’ yesssss’ with a big smile. Joe asked if...she were ready o go out for some dinner, to which she quickly answered, ‘yes, I’m famished’. As they turned to leave, Joe remarked that she might want to change first, as she has a big wet spot on the back of her skirt from her many wet orgasms. She looks in the mirror and says ‘SHIT!’ as she heads upstairs with her glass of wine to change. She sips on. I was silent.“No comments?” asked Altenberg.“Sorry. No. I find Sophocles too depressing, too bloody.”“I agree,” Wassermann said. “Yet there is a deep truth in the plays.”“That’s what Freud says, isn’t it?”“Yes. Did you read his sex-studies? Did he see the Schnitzler or did Arthur read Freud?”It was too empty for me. I soon excused myself and returned home. I began reading Wassermann’s stories about sisters, but it was too depressing. I didn’t need realism. Perhaps there was something. "You mean to basically say that areasonable offer based on Erin's market value price would be refused,whereas a ridiculously high price would in theory be accepted, exceptthat for it to be so high it would result in Banu Hashim delaying thesale to find out what we are doing?" Precisely, yes. It is not conceivable that we can purchase Erin. Thevery price we would need to offer would work against us." Very well. Then we will take her by force. You are instructed toemploy warriors, professional. Those big, lush tits that I massaged last Friday. My hands remembered the feel of them, squeezing them, pleasing them.I made her cum just from playing with the tits.Her eyes opened. She looked different without her glasses on. “I'm not in the mood, Bill.”Bill? She thought I was Dad? Her glasses were off. I must look like a blur to her. I grinned. “Sure you are, just not for Dad. You're in the mood for me, Mom.”She gasped and sat up, her large tits heaving out of the sudsy water. Glistening.